Lying on the crisp white mattress, surrounded by my kith and kin, I curse myself for presenting almost no gestures of appreciation to the one without whom I shall have been all messed up. Six times nine glorious years of our married life have passed, and without any complaint, my wife has kept lending her ears to my unsaid words; until yesterday, when a casual conversation between us led to an unusual emotion of guilt gushing through my veins.


“…because it is beautiful to make someone feel the essence of love, but something even more beautiful is to make someone feel the expression of love. Hence, one must express frequently, else all a losing chance takes is a split second, but what it leaves behind is regret for a lifetime,” she said.


This statement surprised me galore. After much brooding, I realised how badly I have been failing in providing her the words of admiration. Pangs of regret crumbled me within, demanding relief. Relief which was possible only if I gifted the expression of love she deserved, but lack of appropriate words at that time, made me put off this task.

But today, after having spent an entire night forming sentences in praise of her, I’m all prepared. Today, I want to tell how her encouraging words relieve me of all the negativity that brews up in me. I want to tell how the curve of her lips, when she smiles, heal me in infinite ways. I want to tell how the food she cooks, tastes of love. I want to tell how her belief in miracles has made me a better person.


I want to tell her all this and so much more, but ‘how’ is the question! How does one communicate with the dead? How? I need to find this answer and consume the pain she would’ve felt when I didn’t appreciate, but all I see is the burning pyre consuming every bit of her.


Hadn’t an asthma attack plunged her life into death this morning, my heart would’ve been light on its feet while dancing to my words of appreciation for her. But now, regret seems to have smeared all over this organ, making it weigh more than the weight of my entire body.


“…all a losing chance takes is a split second, but what it leaves behind is regret for a lifetime,” her words continue to ring in my ears.


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